


Paid In Full

by Huggle



Series: Paid In Full [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bobby's Panic Room, Guilty Dean Winchester, Guilty Sam Winchester, Hostage Situations, Human Castiel, Hurt Castiel, M/M, Multi, Protective Bobby Singer, Protective Castiel, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Rape, Restraints, Supernatural Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-07-10 09:08:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6976891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huggle/pseuds/Huggle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Sam get word of a book that might hold the key to stopping the Apocalypse.  Desperate times, and all, so they don't hesitate to steal it.</p><p>Unfortunately for Cas, its owner holds a grudge and has a rather cruel way of settling scores.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paid In Full

“Who the fuck,” Dean snapped, but he got no further. A fist smashed against his jaw; with his hands cuffed behind him, he had no way to brace himself and so tumbled roughly onto his side.

They laughed. Sam bit back a curse, knowing it wouldn’t help if both of them were lying on the floor. They were going to get out of this, but not by being stupid.

He watched as Dean managed to right himself, and then one of their captors snagged a fistful of his jacket and hauled him back to kneel next to Sam again.

“You ok?” Sam asked.

Dean gave him a sharp nod, but the side of his face was already starting to redden. 

“You two try and fight us, we’ll do worse,” one of them – a short guy, but muscly – sneered. “Look, fellas, you might as well just go along with this. Not like there’s anything you can do to stop it.”

Sam wondered what the hell _this_ was. The takedown in their motel room had been embarrassingly quick; a blitz attack, and these guys were good. There was nothing on the way in to suggest a threat, and they’d been overpowered and restrained so fast he couldn’t break it down in his head.

But he also didn’t recognise them. If it was somebody they’d pissed off – and not all hunters got on, especially not since word was out on their role in starting the Apocalypse – then these guys were maybe hired help. Or somebody’s uncle or cousin or boyfriend. A quick glance at Dean told him his brother didn’t know these jerks either.

That was bad; if they’d at least had an idea who they were, then they could maybe figure out why they were here and how far this was going to go and in which direction.

But right now they had nothing, and with two of the gang standing behind them they also had no chance to try and work their way out of the cuffs.

“So what do you want?” Sam ventured, tensing in case the question earned him the same response as Dean’s challenge.

Short guy actually grinned at him. “Manners, I like that. Shame your brother doesn’t have any. But since you asked so nicely, we already have what we want. You, here, ready to witness.”

 _Witness_. Sam felt cold at his tone, his words. They were both here to see something. But what? 

“Why?” He didn’t imagine they’d explain, but he couldn’t think of anything else to ask. And if they knew what this was all about, there was still a chance to talk themselves out of whatever situation they’d gotten into.

“Let’s just say our employer isn’t very happy with you two at the moment. Or your light fingered ways.”

Sam could only feel Dean tense next to him, but he kept looking forward. This had to be about the book – sure, their light fingered ways covered credit card fraud, stealing gas, food, ammunition, whatever they needed to get by. But none of those were worthy of this concerted effort to grab them.

The book, on the other hand. Centuries old, filled with lore and spells, and knowledge they desperately needed if they were going to defeat Lucifer. The only problem had been it wasn’t theirs; it belonged to a rich old recluse who had a security system that wasn’t quite as good as he thought it was, especially once his electricity supply had cut off and his back-up generator had mysteriously failed.

So now his book was their book, and it was wrapped up in an old cloth and hidden in the trunk of the Impala. They were going to look over it, all of them, when they got back to Bobby’s. 

But Mr. Whittaker clearly had other plans.

“So,” Dean said, suddenly, and his voice sounded thick like he was talking around a swollen tongue – Sam wondered just how bad his jaw was damaged – “if you guys could be a little more specific maybe we could help you out.”

Short guy’s smile faded and the look that followed didn’t promise anything good for them.

“Just when I thought you were going to be reasonable. Let’s not play games here, Dean Winchester. Yeah, we know you. And you little big brother Sam. Right now, one of my guys is searching your car – the book isn’t here, so I figure it’s in your ride. But our boss was also keen we teach you the error of your ways.”

One of them unzipped a laptop case, and set the computer up on the small table by the window. He turned it towards them, switched it on and then opened a connection.

It took a couple of minutes, but then a familiar room came into view.

Bobby’s panic room.

Dean fought his way onto his feet, Sam a moment behind him, but they were both shoved back down hard.

“Easy, now, easy. There isn’t a thing you can do about this except watch, and learn. Whatever you do in here, we’re not going to kill you. Might hurt you some, if you make us, but you can’t be educated if you’re dead. You can’t spread word of what happens to people who take what isn’t theirs if you’re dead.”

Watching that empty room, waiting… Sam knew patience. He’d spent long hours waiting for the creature they were hunting to turn up. He’d waited those two or three years once he’d actually made up his mind to leave to squirrel together enough money to go. He’d waited the three months it had taken for him to find out about his full scholarship to Stanford.

But this…. This he couldn’t deal with, because whatever they saw next was going to rip the heart right out of them.

They heard Bobby yelling protests before they saw him. His wheelchair was shoved roughly into view, and they could see his wrists were cuffed to the chair’s arms. His baseball cap was gone, his clothing was torn, and Sam just knew Bobby had fought like a damned thing before getting taken.

But even with guns and knives, he was still on his own in a wheelchair against maybe as many men as had taken them. It would have been no contest, and Sam wished they’d waited until Cas had returned before taking off for the book. Or vice versa – got Cas to wait until they were back before he went to try and find any trace of Gabriel, their best out of a series of rapidly dwindling options.

But even though he retained some of his angelic nature, Sam doubted Cas could have protected Bobby on his own against what was probably a small assault team. Maybe, though – maybe Cas was close, maybe he’d get there in time, maybe he could turn this around. Somehow.

Sam held onto that frail hope, even though he knew better, until two more of the bastards hauled a struggling Castiel into view.

Dean snarled and swore, and it earned him a cuff around the back of the head, but he refused to quieten down any. Sam was glad. He could just hear what was coming over the laptop under Dean’s protests, and he really didn’t want to hear any of it at all. But they were here to witness.

Cas fought. He was fast, and Sam knew he could be lethal, but he was also still recovering from using his own body as a canvas for the banishing spell, and waking up brain dead in a hospital. And he was hampered; they outnumbered him, but they also had leverage.

Them, but also someone much closer. 

One of the thugs pressed a knife against Bobby’s throat, and barked an order to Castiel to stop fighting them. Cas looked at Bobby and even though Bobby yelled a counter order, Sam knew Cas wouldn’t risk Bobby’s wellbeing. He went limp in their grip, and offered no further resistance as he was pushed down onto the panic room bed. The restraints Sam remembered, thick, heavy, inescapable, were fastened around Cas’s wrists and ankles, and Sam watched Cas test them almost instinctively.

Sam could have told him not to bother. Once you were in them, you didn’t get out without help.

He dropped his gaze, but one of the guys behind him grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked his head back.

“Witness, remember?” Short guy said. “That involves watching, listening and remembering. Though to be honest, this is something I think you’ll have a hard time being able to forget.”

~~

They took it in turns, one of them always guarding Bobby in case he tried something. 

Sam tried to keep himself distant and locked down, and thought it was a good idea to keep watch on their adopted father. Because Bobby would find a way to kill them – if not now, then later, punishment for invading his house and revenge for not being able to protect Cas.

Maybe Bobby wasn’t his number one fan, but he’d lumped that angel in with them and this wasn’t something he’d just let go of.

Dean was far more vocal. He threatened and bargained. They could take the book.

 _We have it_. Now it was sitting next to the laptop, looking worthless compared to the price currently being paid for it.

They didn’t have money, but Bobby had some. They’d pay them off.

_If our employer did this for a book, what do you think he would do if we betrayed him?_

They’d hunt them down and kill them.

_After this, you’ll never see us again. And I think taking care of him will keep you occupied for the foreseeable future, don’t you?_

Occasionally, short guy would talk some. About how they’d dug into the Winchesters’ background. Mr. Whittaker apparently believed it was better to demonstrate his displeasure on the loved ones of those who’d crossed him. More effective. And Bobby – well, with their mother having died so long ago, and their father more recently – Bobby had come to their focus next since he was the next thing they had to a parent.

But he was in a wheelchair, and Mr. Whittaker apparently had some standards. 

Still, while they’d been scoping them out, they’d stumbled across the guy – Castiel? Seen how they were around him. Short guy admitted frustration at being able to find nothing on him but a first name, but it was clear he was more family than friend.

If he’d been in any doubt, their reactions – Bobby’s reactions – had confirmed it. 

So Cas would be the one to pay, the textbook for this lesson. 

And they weren’t allowed to look away, forcibly held in place if they tried.

For the first while, Cas remained frighteningly stoic. Sam wondered if that was the angel in him, if they had some inbuilt way of coping with trauma. But that only made sense if they were in a vessel, and that body was Cas’s now. But maybe it didn’t make a difference. Maybe Cas had locked himself down somehow and was safe and so far out of this that nothing those bastards did could touch him.

He kept clinging to that until one of them pushed so hard and deep that Cas arched up and yelped in pain. As if that first cry was the rally they’d been waiting for, things got worse after that. They stopped taking turns. Two or three worked him over at a time. 

The crack of his ribs as one of them deliberately put all his weight on Cas was sickeningly audible over the laptop. The slap of flesh against flesh, the grunts as they took what they wanted from their friend, the groans from Cas.

And Bobby, Bobby kept threatening and begging, just like Dean had, alternating being dire promises of retribution and offering them his whole fucking house if they would just stop.

“I think that’s enough, to be honest,” Short Guy said, and one of the others sent a quick text on his cell phone. “We certainly don’t want him dead, especially not for your transgression.”

Only then did it stop.

~~

As soon as they were left alone, it was short work to get out of the cuffs. Dean grabbed for his cell phone, slapping Sam’s hands away angrily when he tried to check the swelling around his jaw. 

His phone seemed to ring out forever, and Sam let him try. It couldn’t hurt, and even if Bobby was too busy to pick up, it’d let him know they were ok and on the way. So while Dean listened, shaking with anger and worry, Sam grabbed their gear and dumped it in the Impala’s trunk. 

They’d jimmied it, but he found some rope and managed to rig it to keep the lid down until they got home.

When he was done and went back for Dean, he was still waiting on the phone being answered. Wordlessly he tossed it to Sam and then got into the driver’s seat. Sam tugged the room door shut behind him, and jumped in next to his brother.

He let the phone ring out for another few minutes before he finally ended the call.

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a one shot for the following Kink Prompt: Castiel/OMCs, gang rape, with Dean and/or Sam being made to watch.
> 
> There might be a sequel if anyone's interested as I can feel one tugging at me.


End file.
